


All Wrapped Up in Each Other

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Oh who am I kidding, Porn With Plot, a little plot, a very little really, post-S3, yes i know it's late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: It's Christmas 1930, and Phryne and Jack decide to go away for a long weekend just before the holiday; they rent a cottage at the beach and do their best to stay naked the whole time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a prompt that was supposed to be holiday-themed and pun-filled. It’s really only marginally Christmassy and there are zero puns, but there's plenty of smut, so, you know, I’m calling it a win. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sorry it’s late (Christmas spirit all year round, maybe? I’ve got nothin’.).
> 
> The title is inspired by this quote: The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other. ~Burton Hillis

The kitchen at Wardlow was warm and fragrant, with Mr. B’s gingerbread cooling at one end of the table. He slid another pan into the oven as Phryne, Jack, and Jane sat pushing sharp-ended cloves through ribbon-wrapped oranges to be hung on the Christmas tree. Phryne inhaled deeply.

“I love these,” she remarked, breathing deeply of the spicy-sweet aroma. Beneath the table, she stroked the back of her foot up Jack’s calf, and he flashed a small smile at her. 

She’d been back from London for almost a year now, and she and Jack had been lovers for nearly that long. Still, she hadn’t yet tired of him—she loved that he was often at Wardlow for no reason other than to be with her; that she was allowed to touch him, whether casually or not; that her family had opened their hearts and arms to him and now his presence wasn’t even a question. She supposed that should scare her—after all, what if their sexual relationship ended?—but it didn’t. She was content. More than content, she was happy.

“I do too. They smell so good! And the gingerbread, Mr. B—is it ready for icing yet?” Jane was sixteen now, and the eighteen months she’d spent touring the continent and then at boarding school in Paris had tempered her already stellar character into one of sophistication and steel. There were still moments, though, that Phryne glimpsed the little girl that she had been—and right now, with her eyes sparkling over fresh frosted gingerbread and the anticipation of the holiday, she was very much as she had been when Phryne had first taken her in.

Phryne adored Jane and loved having her home—she’d decided to do her last year of school back here in Melbourne—but she did worry that having Jack over was less than appropriate with Jane in the house. She’d need to figure out how to reconcile that mothering urge with getting what she wanted, which was Jack in her bed as often as possible. 

“They should be cool enough now, Miss Jane.” Smiling, Mr. Butler laid a twisted sack of icing on the table at Jane’s elbow, and she clapped, setting down her half-studded orange to change tasks.

Phryne laughed at Jane’s enthusiasm and shared a warm glance with Jack. He’d laid his orange down as well, its surface neatly studded in even stripes of cloves. 

“How did you finish so quickly, Jack?” Phryne reached over to pick up his orange—it was very pretty, the clove striping turning out to be a spiral that went from the base of the hanging ribbon around to the bottom. Jane reached out to take it from Phryne, and let out a soft “ooh” as she watched it turn as it dangled from her fingers.

“Practice, Miss Fisher,” Jack admitted with a shrug. “My mother had us make them every year when I was growing up.” He smiled a little shyly. “I’d forgotten how much I love the way they smell.”

“We should make some for your tree too, Inspector.” Jane’s innocent comment made Phryne wince a little. Jack had been planning to spend the holiday here at Wardlow before she’d developed motherly scruples about what his presence would mean to Jane.

“Oh, I won’t likely put up a tree, Jane,” he said smoothly. “I’m not home enough.”

Jane looked at him with shocked pity. “But that’s awful,” she breathed. “It’s _Christmas_.” She sent a wide-eyed glance at Phryne. “You should share ours, then.” Her voice was resolute. “Shouldn’t he, Phryne?” 

“Absolutely, Jane,” Phryne replied, her eyes on Jack. 

“You should come stay with us, at least for the holiday. No one should be alone at Christmas.” Jane’s tone recalled the time she’d spent alone for more than just a holiday. “Please, will you, inspector?”

Jack looked at Jane’s earnest gaze, then at Phryne, who nodded and tried to put her own approval of this plan into her eyes. 

“I’d love to,” he said, his low voice warm.

“It’s decided, then,” Phryne said, her smile wide. She brought her studded orange to her nose, breathing in deeply, her eyes still on Jack, who looked a little lost. “Now Jane, how is that icing going?”

With a small smile at her redirection of the room’s focus, Jack reached for another orange and began again.

* * *

After Phryne had seen Jack out for the night, sharing a soft kiss at the door out of sight of her ward, she moved back into the parlor to join Jane. She planned to meet Jack at his bungalow in an hour, so saying goodbye to him hadn’t been as much of a chore as it could have been. 

“You know, I don’t mind if he stays,” Jane spoke softly from where she was curled in one of the chairs, her hands wrapped around a tall cup of warmed apple juice that Mr. Butler prepared with mulling spices. “Jack, I mean. I like him.”

Phryne looked at her in surprise, though she supposed she should have known that Jane would see what the situation with Jack was.

“He’s certainly better than some of the other men you’ve had spend the night.” Her eyes twinkled at Phryne over the rim of her cup. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What for?” Phryne picked up her whiskey and swirled it, breathing in its aroma along with the spiced oranges that now perfumed the parlor’s air.

“I’ve given him an excuse to come and stay for at least a week, and I’d bet you could stretch it out to two or even three weeks if you tried.”

Phryne laughed aloud at that. “Demon child! You have, so thank you. I don’t know whether he’ll feel comfortable staying for too long, but it would be lovely if I can convince him to.”

“Take him away for a weekend—I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Jane’s smile was wicked.

“Jane!” Phryne eyed her ward with interest. “I know that we’ve talked about sex, but when did you get so clever about it?”

“Well, there were some girls at school who were forever slipping out to meet boys. My roommate—you remember Chastity?” She paused, waiting for Phryne’s nod. “Well, let’s just say she was very much misnamed, and she loved to share her experiences.”

“And did you have experiences to share in return?” Phryne took a sip of her whiskey. She’d had Mac fit Jane with a family planning device before sending Jane off on her time abroad, just in case. Phryne’s own first time with a boy had been at fifteen, and she wanted to be sure that Jane was safer than she had been, should the need arise.

“No, I haven’t yet found a boy that I’m that interested in,” Jane said, off-handedly. 

Phryne narrowed her eyes. “Not a boy, but perhaps a girl?” Jane blushed and Phryne smiled into her whiskey. “I won’t pry, darling, just know that you have someone you can talk to, all right? About anything.”

“I do know.” Jane’s voice was soft, and her eyes met Phryne’s directly. “And I love you for it.”

Phryne blew her a kiss and changed the subject. “I do like the idea of taking him away for a weekend, I’ll admit. You won’t feel abandoned if I do?”

“Definitely not. I’m just happy to be home.” She smiled at Phryne. “And I like the way you two are together.”

“So do I, Jane.” On the heels of that soft admission, Phryne groaned theatrically. “Who would ever have thought that I’d be so pleased to be with only one man?” She shook her head. “There are so many beautiful ones out there.”

“I think you found the best one, that’s all.” Jane shrugged, taking a sip of her juice.

“You may be right, darling.” Phryne knocked back her whiskey and checked the clock. “All right, then, I’ll arrange something. And I’ll make sure that he comes to stay over the holidays too.” She got up, setting her glass on the end table, and came over to press a kiss to Jane’s forehead. “For now, though, I have someplace to be. I will see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Phryne,” Jane said, her smile pleased. “Have a good time!”

“Ta!” With a wink and a smile, Phryne donned her coat and hat before heading out to her car and to Jack.

* * *

“A whole weekend, Phryne?” Jack lay on his back, Phryne draped over his chest, his hand stroking her naked back. Their initial round of lovemaking had been energetic, and both of them were breathing heavily still.

“Just think of it, Jack. A weekend at the beach in the summer heat, with no real reason to ever put on clothes.” She propped her chin on one hand and grinned at him. 

“Seems you could save the price of the beach cottage, then, and we could just stay here.” He returned her grin. “We seem to do all right on the clothes-free front.” He reached to grip her buttocks, reminding her that he was still inside her, if not as hard as he had been before his orgasm.

“We do at that,” she murmured, kissing him softly. “But if we’re here, you’re reachable, and if you’re reachable, you’ll be called in. So if we’re taking a weekend away, we should actually go _away_.”

“Mmm, fair point.” He kissed her back, his tongue slipping between her lips. Phryne could feel him hardening within her, and she stretched, rubbing her chest against his.

“So can you get away this weekend?”

“I think so,” he murmured, his big hands kneading her bottom, fingers sliding around her curves. “God, how can I want you again so quickly?” He rolled them, dropping his head to lay kisses along her neck. She arched against him, bringing her legs up to wrap around his waist as he began a series of shallow thrusts.

“I’ll find us a place, then,” she gasped, her body responding to the friction of his faster than she’d expected. “Oh god, do that again, Jack!” 

One hand sliding up to the back of his neck, she combed her fingertips through the short, soft hair there. Her other hand went to his back, fingers pressing into the dip of his spine at the point where back turned to bottom. She loved this—the slow motions of their bodies, the weight of him atop her, the sound of their huffing breaths as they strained toward completion, the scent of them rising in the room. 

When they came, it was simultaneous, slow waves washing over them rather than the sharp punch it had been earlier. Jack’s name escaped Phryne on a long breath, and she heard him groan her name as the warmth of his release flooded her. 

When they’d caught their breath, he spoke, his voice muffled against her neck. “A whole weekend of this, you say? When do we leave?”

Phryne’s delighted laugh burst out of her, and she lifted his head to kiss his smiling mouth. “Give me two days to arrange it, darling. I’ll take care of everything.”

“You always do, Miss Fisher, and beautifully.” He slid off to the side, keeping an arm around her. She took a deep breath—he wasn’t a tall man, but his muscular frame was heavy, and no matter how much she loved the weight of him, she did eventually need to breathe.

He reached down to twitch the sheet up and over them before snuggling back down beside her.

“I’m glad you came by tonight. How long can you stay?” His bass rumble was soft and warm in her ear, and she sighed slightly at the feel of it.

“All night, if you like,” she said sleepily. 

“Won’t Jane—” His voice was concerned. He hadn’t liked it when she’d explained her reasoning for his absence in her bed this past week, but he’d understood. Jack adored Jane and had no wish to hurt her.

Phryne laughed softly. “Jane gave me her blessing.” 

Jack stilled, then raised his head to look down at her in the dim light of the moon. “She knows?”

Phryne nodded. “My daughter is very observant, and very smart. She said she likes you and doesn’t mind if you stay over at Wardlow—she even admitted that she came up with the invitation for you to spend Christmas with us so that there was a convenient excuse. She said I should try to stretch your visit to two or three weeks if I could.” 

“I’m not sure whether to be thrilled or mortified,” Jack muttered through his chuckles. 

“Be thrilled, darling, of course!” Phryne lifted her face to his, her smile bright. “It means that my short foray into maternal guilt is effectively over.”

“Does that mean that I can ravish you at will?”

“Oh, I hope so—though perhaps we should stay out of the public spaces at Wardlow, at least for now.” 

“I can work with that.” He leaned in to kiss her, his mouth warm and tender. 

Phryne arched against him, her arms sliding up around his neck as she kissed him back. After a long, delicious moment, Jack groaned and pulled away slightly, his hand cupping her breast. Laying his forehead softly against hers, he sighed.

“The spirit is willing, love, but the flesh is weak.” He smiled a little ruefully. “I’m going to need a little time to recover, but I could…” He tightened his fingers around her nipple, and she gasped lightly, but raised her hand to cover his. 

“It’s all right, Jack,” she said, linking her fingers with his, and raised their joined hands to her mouth to press a kiss against his knuckles. “We’ll have all weekend.”

“So we will, Miss Fisher,” he murmured, settling down to sleep, “so we will.”

* * *

On Friday, Phryne picked Jack up at his bungalow after his shift; he emerged from the door just as she pulled up, so he must have been watching for her. With a grin, he tossed his small bag into the back seat of the Hispano-Suiza beside hers and climbed in.

“So where are we going, Miss Fisher?” 

“Well,” she said, pulling away from the curb as soon as he was situated, “I considered a hotel, if only to have food available for your insatiable appetite—”

“That’s not the appetite you need to worry about,” he mock-growled, and she laughed.

“—but I decided that the privacy of a cottage was the better idea. Mr. B packed us enough to get us through till Sunday, and if there’s anything else we need, we’re only going about an hour away.” She shot him a glance. “There are likely also places to buy food there, but we’d probably have to get dressed to visit even the most casual of them.”

“Heaven forbid,” he drawled, watching her, she noticed, rather than the road. 

“We’ll have an hour or two before sunset, Jack. Do you want to go for a walk on the beach before we settle in?” Her tone was innocent. They had not had a chance to be together since she’d spent the night at his home earlier in the week, and she was ready to ravish him already. She hoped that he felt the same.

“Hm, I suppose we _could_ , if you like. I am a bit tired, though. A lie-down might be just the thing.” His voice was low and his tone communicated exactly what kind of lie-down he had in mind. Phryne knew that he wouldn’t touch her while she was driving, but when he talked this way, it was almost as good.

“Oh, poor Jack—did you have a difficult day at work?” She kept her voice sympathetic, though she was inwardly thrilled by his teasing, the low-key anticipation she’d been feeling all day ramping up to the beginnings of arousal.

“Not difficult, just tiring. Though you know, my back is rather tense. Maybe you could rub my shoulders?” He tilted his head at her, and she glanced over to see his little sideways smile.

“I could do that—but don’t you just want me to let you sleep? I mean, it’s your vacation too.” She sent him a smirk. “I could just tuck you in and head out, give you a little time to yourself…”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Miss Fisher.” He was using that low, silky tone again. She shivered a little. “In fact, I have plans for how to rejuvenate myself, and they very definitely require your presence.”

“You want me to _watch_ , Jack?” She tried for a scandalized tone, and he barked out a laugh.

“Oh no,” he rumbled. “Your participation is an integral part of this plan. I think it won’t succeed without you, actually.”

“Oh, well, if it won’t succeed unless I come with you, how can I argue?” Phryne’s smile was wide—how she loved to hear him laugh! 

An hour later, Phryne pulled up behind the cottage and shut off the Hispano-Suiza. She cast an eye at the sky—there weren’t any clouds, but without a garage, she didn’t want to risk her seats to a rainstorm.

“Help me put the roof on, Jack? Just in case.”

Jack pulled out his case and Phryne’s from the back set and set them beside the path, then moved to undo the fastenings that held the car’s roof down. Together, they pulled it smoothly up and over, clipping it into place before shifting to open the boot. Jack let out a laugh when he saw the two picnic baskets that filled the entire space.

“I think there’s more than enough food here, Phryne,” he said. 

“Well, you do have quite an appetite, Jack,” she teased, stroking a hand down his back to squeeze his bottom. He shook his head and leaned to kiss her before tugging the two baskets out. Behind them was a smaller basket.

“More?”

“Well, we need whiskey, Jack!” 

“That we do, Miss Fisher,” he agreed amiably. 

She reached in for the small basket and closed the boot as he headed around the front of the cottage to the door; on the way, he stopped to tuck her case under one arm. Phryne picked his up with her free hand as she passed it. Walking behind him, she admired his strength. Those baskets weren’t light—she’d carried one to the car herself and could attest to it. She wished that he’d changed into more casual clothing so that she could admire his muscles as he worked them. Smirking, she supposed she could ask him to pose for her once she’d gotten him naked.

He paused to let her unlock the door and hold it for him, then moved inside. The cottage itself was small, perfect for vacationers. It had electricity and modern plumbing—two things that Phryne had checked specifically; one could take “roughing it” too far, after all—and the kitchen had been relatively recently remodeled, its wooden icebox fitted with an electric cooling unit to take the place of the block ice the cabinet had been built to use. 

Walking in, Phryne was pleasantly surprised. A small round table and four chairs sat off to the right of the front door, and an open archway into a small kitchen was centered in the back wall; a living area with a reasonably fashionable couch was to the left, with the open door to the bedroom just beyond it. On the whole, the place was homey and welcoming.

Jack set the two picnic baskets on the dining table and Phryne set the alcohol basket beside them before taking her case from Jack. She carried it and his to the bedroom, setting them against the wall just inside the door. Moving back out into the living room, she unfastened the scarf over her hair; hanging it and her driving jacket on a hook beside the door, she turned to where Jack was unloading food into the icebox and cupboards, a roasted chicken and vegetables sitting proudly on the dining table.

“Is this tonight’s dinner, then?” She said, picking a carrot from among the artfully arranged vegetables and popping it into her mouth.

“I thought it might be—that all right with you? There’s a beef roast for tomorrow, and ham sandwich makings for lunch, plus eggs and bread and a rasher of bacon for breakfasts.” He glanced over his shoulder at her with his eyebrows raised. 

She moved closer to take the collar of his overcoat and slide it down his shoulders; she folded it over one arm and plucked his hat from his head. He turned, and she pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders as well, catching it and draping it over his overcoat.

“There. Now you look as if you’re on vacation,” she said, rising on her toes to kiss him.

“I thought the plan was complete nakedness,” Jack teased, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shrugging it off his shoulders.

“I’m taking it slowly,” she said, loosening his tie, her smile wicked. “I want to make sure that you’re rested and comfortable.” She pulled the tie from beneath his collar, draping it over his jacket. He added his waistcoat to her pile, even as he lifted his chin to give her access to his collar buttons.

“Let me put the rest of the food away, and then you’ll see how comfortable I can be.” He stepped close, pressing his hips to hers. “I’ll help you get comfortable too.”

“I’ll get started on that while you finish up here,” she purred. “But you’d better hurry, inspector. I might start relaxing without you.” With one more kiss, she moved away from him, hips swaying, to hang his overcoat beside her driving coat. Turning, she met his eyes—he stood in the kitchen, watching her—and began unbuttoning the front of her dress as she sauntered toward the bedroom. He tilted his head at her, narrowing his eyes as he dug into the baskets again.

When she made it into the bedroom, Phryne flew into action, laying his things over a chest in the corner before pulling her soft blue summer dress and chemise over her head, a smile of anticipation on her face. Stepping out of her shoes, she sat on the edge of the bed to remove her stockings and garter belt, standing again to lay them aside. She was standing in the middle of the room, considering whether to remove her silver-gray brassiere and knickers, when Jack appeared in the doorway.

He’d slipped off his shoes and socks, and pulled his braces down to hang over his hips. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, showing the way his undershirt molded tightly to the muscles of his chest. He was removing his cufflinks as he watched her, his eyes hot.

Wordlessly, she turned to face him as she unfastened the hooks at her back and pulled off her brassiere. The room was warm, but she was aroused, and her nipples puckered under his gaze. She raised an eyebrow at him.

With a tilt of his head, he slowly pulled off his shirt to reveal the rounded caps of his shoulders, tan against the white of his undershirt. Turning, he bent to lay the shirt over his jacket, then tugged his undershirt over his head. Phryne watched, admiring the flexing of his muscles as he moved. When he paused, she raised a finger and pointed at his trousers, turning it in a “keep going” gesture. He smirked, his hands going to his waistband, unfastening it at a glacial pace. Weight on one foot, he spun to show her his back—she licked her lips at the sight of his smooth flesh over shifting muscle—and pushed his trousers down, bending to pull them off first one foot, then the other. His ass was outlined faithfully by the thin fabric of his undershorts, and Phryne bit her lip, her fingers itching to touch those taut globes. Tossing his trousers atop the rest of his clothing, he turned back to face her, his shorts tenting at the front of his body.

Phryne stepped closer, placing her hands flat on his chest; he raised his hands to her waist, sliding them upward to cup her breasts. She copied his motions, sliding her hands to his pectorals; when he slid his thumbs across her nipples, she did the same to him.

“Ah, is that the way it is?” His voice was deep and smooth.

“Ah, is that the way it is?” She parroted, her smile growing.

Jack tilted his head at her, his eyes narrowing, and she copied the gesture. His lips twitched, and she could see that he was considering his next move. He ducked his head, laying his tongue on the underside of her nipple before sucking the hardened bud into his mouth. She moaned as he suckled, then released her, blowing across the tip before he straightened, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Phryne met his gaze, her own heavy-lidded with the desire that one simple action had turned from a smoulder into a blaze, then dropped her head to repeat what he’d done to her on his nipple. Jack sucked in a breath, his cock rising between them; when she blew across his wet nipple, his hips surged forward seemingly involuntarily, and he whispered her name. She breathed his name in return, and he shuddered slightly.

Turning, Jack released her and moved toward the bed; Phryne turned to walk behind him. He stopped and shucked his undershorts before pushing the bedcovers aside and crawling in to lay with his head on the pillows. Phryne did the same, conscious of his eyes on her. 

When she crawled onto the bed, he hooked his hands around her hips, grasping her bottom and bringing his face to the juncture of her legs. Phryne adjusted, turning so that she could lie down facing his erection; he bent one knee to open himself up to her, and she did the same, shivering in anticipation. He began with long licks with the flat of his tongue, and she followed his lead, attempting to copy the general idea of his actions on an anatomy that was gloriously different from her own. She licked him, starting at the base of his cock and swirling her tongue along his length before opening her mouth over his head and pulling him inside. She felt his groan of pleasure against her clitoris, and the vibrations made her whimper, so she applied herself to making him do it again.

Before too long, she was no longer paying attention to the exact motions of his tongue; her hips worked against his mouth and the fingers he’d brought into play, and her mouth worked against his hips, slicking his cock with wetness that made the motions of her head smooth and fast. She played with his balls with one hand, her fingertips stroking their sensitive skin; the other hand gripped the base of his shaft so that she could speed up her sucking thrusts without choking. She was close to orgasm, her thighs clenching around Jack’s head, when he pulled his head away.

“Wait, Phryne, I want to fuck you,” he panted, his deep voice gone gravelly. 

Phryne whined, not wanting to lose the feel of him in her mouth or the taste of him on her tongue, but he pulled away, flipping her to lie on her stomach. He moved immediately behind her, hitching her hips up and plunging inside. 

“Oh god, Jack, yes… yes, yes,” she cried, her hands gripping the coverlet as he pounded into her body.

“You… are so… beautiful,” he moaned, his words choppy with his labored breathing. 

Jack leaned over her to slide his hands onto her breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples in the way he knew that she liked. Phryne keened her pleasure and slid a hand down between her legs to press her fingers against her clit. She could feel the strength of Jack’s thrusts in her fingers and thighs, and she loved the frantic pace he set. With a scream that she muffled in the bedclothes, she came, her body shaking and her pussy gripping his still-thrusting cock.

“Phryne!” Jack’s shout was ecstatic, as he buried himself inside her and came; he wrapped both arms around her torso and pressed close against her back as his hips stuttered against hers. Tucking his face into her neck, he continued to move inside her, slowing as he softened. Laying kisses on her shoulder and back, he pulled out completely, rolling them both to their sides and pulling Phryne’s back to his chest.

Phryne linked her fingers with his, turning her head to kiss him.

“Well, I’d say this weekend is off to a stellar start,” she murmured. “I’m glad that Mr. B packed enough food to keep your strength up.”

Jack chuckled. “I’m glad that lived up to your expectations, Miss Fisher.”

“It’s a good beginning, inspector,” she purred. “But my expectations are, I’ll admit, rather high.”

“I’m just the man for the job,” he murmured, his hands beginning to roam on her skin. “I won’t stop till you’re satisfied.” On these words, Jack’s fingers slipped between her thighs, gently stroking into the wetness he found there.

“Oh… see that you don’t,” she breathed, as he lifted her knee to open her up to his fingers. She tilted her head back, and Jack laid his cheek against hers as he began to build her tension again, his fingers careful and slow.

“We have all weekend.” His words brushed across her cheekbone, and Phryne lifted a hand to slide it into his hair. 

What a weekend it would be.

* * *

Phryne woke before Jack on their last morning in the bungalow, an event in itself, given his habit of early rising. They must have worn each other out if he was still asleep at—she lifted her head from his chest to eye the clock that sat on the dresser across the room—just past ten in the morning.

It had been a delightful weekend—they had indeed managed to remain naked the entire time, giggling as they wandered around, and taking every opportunity to shag whenever and wherever they wanted to. He’d had her on the kitchen counter and the dining table; she’d had him on the couch and in the bath; they’d had each other on the bed and up against the wall. She smiled a little, remembering. This time away was something that she’d remember—and that she’d plan for them to do again, especially while Jane was still at home. She loved her daughter, and her staff, but the opportunity for debauchery was too good to pass up.

She shifted slightly, wincing a bit. They’d fucked so much the flesh between her legs was swollen and tender. But they’d be heading home soon, and she didn’t want to end without a bang, as it were. With a slow smirk, she decided that it was probably time to wake Jack, and she had just the way to do it. 

Sliding below the covers, she took his soft cock in her hands, stroking it gently before dipping her head to take it into her mouth. Touching him in this way seemed even more intimate than sucking him off when he was already aroused, and Phryne felt a rush of tenderness for him. Jack was such a good man, and she was so happy to be with him. She’d been content to be his friend, but their partnership was so much better now that they were lovers.

Working him with warm hands and suction, she smiled around him as she felt him begin to harden. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember if she’d done this for him before—over the past year, he’d rarely been unaroused when they were in bed together, so it was possible that it had taken the excesses of this weekend away to allow this intimacy. Phryne swirled her tongue around his hardening cock, sliding her lips down his underside to take his balls, first one and then the other, between her lips. Their sensitive skin crinkled over the firm spheres of his testes, and she sucked gently at each one before moving back up to take his cock into her mouth again.

“Phryne, what…” Jack’s voice, rough with sleep, was muffled through the bedcovers. 

Phryne lifted her head and blew air across the wet head of his penis, pumping him with her hands to encourage his foreskin to retract farther. He groaned and slid his hands into her hair as she blew against him again before enveloping him in the warmth of her mouth.

“Oh god, Phryne, that’s so good,” he moaned. She could feel that he wanted to raise his hips to pump himself into her mouth, so she sped up, taking him all the way into the back of her throat and swallowing. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his fingers tightening in her hair. She did it again, faster, then again, until she was bobbing along his length, one hand fondling his balls. 

“Jesus, Phryne… I’m close, so close…” 

Jack’s voice had deepened, and she could tell that he was, indeed, close to orgasm—his hips had begun to move, though she could tell that he was trying to stay still. She changed her approach, sliding up toward the head of his cock, and adding suction to each withdrawal; every few motions, she slid her tongue along the edge of his foreskin and prodded the tiny hole at his tip, relishing the taste of the fluid that was seeping from it. His hands were kneading her scalp now, his hips jerking with his need to thrust. Wrapping her lips around his head, she sucked strongly, her tongue flat against him.

“Oh, ffffu—” Jack drew out the words as he came, his body arching with release. Phryne took his cock farther into her mouth, swallowing quickly to keep up with his ejaculation.

When it was over and Jack lay panting, she crawled back up to poke her head above the covers and rest against his chest, pillowing her chin on her hands.

“Good morning, Jack,” she purred, licking her lips.

Wordlessly, Jack grasped her waist and pulled her upward so that he could kiss her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, and his hands sliding over her back and bottom.

“A very good morning, love,” he said, when they came up for air. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Phryne shook her head. “I think I need a little time to regroup, unfortunately. What was it you said? The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 

“Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Jack’s reaction was immediate, and he raised his head to look down her body with concern.

“No, darling, nothing like that. It’s just been some time since I’ve had this kind of… prolonged activity, and I’m a bit sore.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “But rest assured, I’ll be fully recovered when you come to stay on Friday.” He’d agreed to spend the week leading up to Christmas at Wardlow, and to stay through Boxing Day. Phryne was excited to have him there, and she’d been planning the menu and quite a bit of quiet time for them. She’d also planned a party for Christmas Day, with all of her found family invited, including her cabbies and Mr. Butler. It would be all of her favorite people in one room, and she could hardly wait.

“You poor thing,” he rumbled, but she could hear the relief in his voice. “Do you want to take a bath while I pack up our things?”

“That’s an excellent idea. If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I have a vested interest in your return to full health, after all.” He smiled that sideways smile that always melted her, and squeezed her buttocks. “Go on then. I’ll wash up out here and get things moving.”

Phryne kissed him one last time and went.

* * *

Phryne loved Christmas. Even when she’d been a girl and they’d had very little money for gifts, it hadn’t mattered because the spirit of the season was everything. She and Janey would make gifts out of anything they could find—scrap-fabric dollies, pirate swords of sticks and twine, nuts or fruits cadged from the neighbors’ trees—and her mother would almost always manage a chicken for the pot. Her father had even, most years, managed to forego drinking for that one day (if only because the pub was closed), making it one of the best days of the year. 

Then, when Janey disappeared, the light had gone out of the holiday for Phryne. For all of them. Her mother had not had the heart, that first year, to scrounge even a hen too old to lay to be their Christmas dinner, and her father had spent what money they had on bottles of gin so that he could drink himself into a stupor to forget that his favorite daughter was gone. And Phryne, without Janey, hadn’t wanted to celebrate. That pattern had continued until they left for England; at the estate there, they’d had the feast and expensive presents, but there was no heart to the season anymore, and Phryne always felt like an afterthought. 

Phryne had tried, after leaving her parents’ home, to recapture that feeling, but to no avail. It hadn’t been until she returned to Melbourne that she’d found anything close. Closure on Janey’s death had helped; her sister was no longer missing and had been buried in the family plot, and her killer was dead by the hangman’s noose. And Phryne’s found family had helped too: Jane and Aunt P, Dot and Hugh, Mr. Butler and Mac, Cec and Bert. And Jack. 

So now, with nearly twenty terrible Christmases behind her, Phryne was making up for lost time. This had been the third Christmas with her real family, and Phryne had loved every minute of it. The fact that this year, Jack sat beside her on the chaise with his arm wrapped around her shoulders—rather than standing across the room, leaning however handsomely against the mantel—made it that much better.

“Another whiskey, miss?” 

Phryne looked up to see Mr. Butler standing before her, his gentle smile in place, holding the cut-glass whiskey decanter close around the neck with one hand, his other cupped beneath it. He wore the soft red scarf she’d bought him draped around his collar, and it warmed Phryne even more to see it.

“Absolutely, Mr. B! It’s Christmas!” Phryne knew that her smile was bright, and she relished it. “You should have a drink and sit down—we can look after ourselves.”

“Please, Mr. Butler,” Jack echoed, “won’t you sit and join us?”

Mr. Butler nodded, his smile shading to pleased, and he withdrew, moving toward the drinks tray to pour himself a cordial. He strolled across the parlor to where Dot and Hugh sat in the window seat, their hands intertwined. They smiled in welcome, their lips moving in words Phryne couldn’t hear.

Jane stood beside the fireplace, talking animatedly with Mac, whose festive holiday waistcoat of green and gold glinted in the firelight. Bert, Cec, and Alice had just left to take Aunt Prudence home for the evening, and Phryne knew that Aunt P would be scolding Bert for having drunk three glasses of champagne, though she secretly adored the man’s rough affection. Cec, behind the wheel, would shake his head with wry affection of his own before dropping Bert off at his flat and heading home with his wife.

“Nice family you’ve got here,” Jack murmured in Phryne’s ear, his thoughts obviously following hers.

“They are, aren’t they?” Phryne turned to look at him, her eyes drifting, as they often did, to his mouth, then back up to meet his tender gaze. “I’ve enjoyed having you here the past week, Jack,” she murmured. “Are you sure that you can’t stay past Boxing Day?”

“I wish I could,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. “It wouldn’t be proper, though, and since Sanderson’s arrest, the new chief is very concerned with the appearance of the force.” He shook his head and sighed a little. “I’ve enjoyed being here, though.”

Phryne let out a soft _hmph._ “Well, I wouldn’t want to endanger your position.”

Jack’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “I still have tonight before I have to at least make an effort to look like I live at my house.” He buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. 

“I know, we managed it before. It’s just so much easier when you’re _here_.” Phryne had a sudden thought, her breath stopping in her chest for a moment before she exhaled. “I’ve just remembered—there’s something I need to do.” Patting his leg, she rose and set her whiskey glass on the coffee table. “I’ll be right back.” 

Hurrying through the house, Phryne moved into the kitchen. In the pantry, she opened a small cupboard and withdrew a key. She held it in her hand, looking down at it, her breath coming quickly. Was she really certain this was what she wanted? The question was followed by an immediate _yes_ from her gut, and she smiled. Yes. She wanted Jack to have access to her house at any time; she wanted him to be a part of her life, not just passing through. She stashed the key in her brassiere—Jack would enjoy finding it later—and closed the key box, making a mental note to let Mr. Butler know to have another spare made.

Returning to the parlor, she saw that Jack hadn’t moved, but Jane and Mac had come to sit in the armchairs, and the three of them were laughing lightly together. She stood in the doorway for a moment, basking in their warmth, before Jack noticed her and held out a hand. Taking it, she moved in to sit back down beside him.

“Everything all right, Miss Fisher?” Jack’s voice was warm and concerned, his hand continuing to hold hers as she settled into the circle of his arm.

“Everything’s lovely, Jack,” she replied with a quick smile. She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his mouth. His bashful grin at Jane’s playful groan and Mac’s laughing cry of “get a room, you two” made Phryne’s smile widen as she leaned forward to pick up her whiskey, then cuddled back against Jack again. This was how family should be, and these people were the family of her heart. This Christmas might have been the best one yet.


End file.
